


The Past Haunts Us

by MacAttack (MacAttack_Writing)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious MacCready, Deacon is a smart ass, Deacon is like lmao wtf do i do, Depressed MacCready, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MacCready's going to fuck him after this lmao, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Worried Deacon, yeah he's not in good shape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacAttack_Writing/pseuds/MacAttack
Summary: "A good spy knows how to read other people's emotions. So when he saw MacCready crouching by a corpse of one of the many Feral Ghouls he and the crew had killed to clear Fiddler's Green Trailer Estates, he knew something was wrong."/or/When Deacon, MacCready and the Sole Survivor Nate headed out and MacCready didn't feel so good.





	The Past Haunts Us

Deacon wasn't stupid. A good spy knows how to read other people's emotions. So when he saw MacCready crouching by a corpse of one of the many Feral Ghouls he and the crew had killed to clear Fiddler's Green Trailer Estates, he knew something was wrong. Usually, MacCready wouldn't get close to the things -other than to kick the corpses while walking by them- but there he was, sitting not even a foot away from the thing, his shaking hands barely clutching his head.

Concerned, Deacon called over to Nate to signal he was taking a break from looking for loot and wandered over. MacCready seemed not to register the older man' s presence when Deacon stopped behind him. His eyes were fixed on the leaking wound in the middle of the ghoul's forehead. Deacon stood behind him for a few seconds, waiting for any acknowledgment signaling he knew he was there. Not even a glance behind him.

He cleared his throat. "Nice shot there, pal," he remarked, watching MacCready's face for a reaction. The smaller man pulled away slightly from the ghoul to look up at Deacon, his condition quickly becoming apparent under Deacon's gaze.

The sniper's eyes were tired and swam with tears. His hands were clenched so tightly around his rifle that his knuckles were white, and his chest was rising and falling so fast it looked like he'd run a marathon. Deacon immediately dropped to his knees and placed his hands on the sniper's shoulders, feeling them heave in tune with his lungs. MacCready was having a panic attack.

"Hey, hey, woah there buddy, what's wrong?" Deacon leaned close to MacCready, frantically trying to catch his gaze as he seemed to disappear further and further into his own head, his eyes glazing over. "C'mon pal, stay with me," Deacon pleaded, waving his hand in front of MacCready's face. MacCready's eyes refocused and met Deacon's, tears running down his chin and falling on his tattered coat.

"I'm sorry!" The words tore from MacCready's lungs like a knife, ripping through him until he collapsed into Deacon. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." MacCready chanted the phrase until it disintegrated into incoherent sobbing, his trembling fists buried in his hair. Deacon gripped his shoulders tightly, his eyes wide as he racked his brain for solutions. His darting eyes landed on the corpse of the ghoul, still splayed out beside the two men. He may not have known the problem, but that... thing wasn't helping.

Gently, Deacon placed his left arm under MacCready's knees, his right supporting his back, and picked him up, bridal style. He was surprisingly light for a 22-year-old. "We're moving inside, okay?" MacCready, as expected, made little response. The two made their way to the closest trailer, away from the ghoul and the prying eyes of the Commonwealth.

Setting the younger man down, Deacon gently pulled MacCready's fists from his hair and held them in his own, rubbing his thumbs along their shaking surfaces. "Hey man, listen to me." Deacon's voice was soft as he spoke. "If you can, I need you to try to take a deep breath. There's nothing here that can hurt you. Just breath in." Deacon watched as MacCready struggled to breathe deeply, the difficulty succeeding only to make him panic more as he felt his gasping lungs reject the oxygen. He cried out as a particularly strong wave of anxiety crashed over him and squeezed his eyes shut. Deacon carefully removed MacCready's hat and ruffled his hair, letting the sweat-damp strands breath.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry," MacCready hitched out, shaking his head vigorously.

Deacon shushed him, his voice low. "You didn't hurt me, man. I'm alright, and so are you. You're safe. You just need to calm down, okay? Just breath." He brushed a small strand of hair away from MacCready's face. "Just like that. In and out."

MacCready made another attempt to breathe deeply, his lungs struggling to suck in air. They sat like that for what felt like hours, the sounds of MacCready's shaky breathing and Deacon's whispers of encouragement the only sounds to occupy the space. Finally, once his gasps slowed, MacCready spoke for the first time since they'd entered the small trailer.

"Thanks, " he said, his voice hoarse.

Deacon swallowed thickly and nodded, fighting the growing urge to pop a stealth boy and bolt. With the crisis temporarily averted, the close proximity between the two men was becoming increasingly obvious to him, and he was still holding the sniper's hands. "Don't worry about it, pal." He dropped his hands and settled down beside him. "I don't want to push it, but... what happened back there?"

MacCready sighed shakily and let his head fall back onto the rusted wall. "It's a long story."

Deacon shifted to face MacCready and rested his chin on his palm. "I'm all ears, pal."

MacCready hesitated before nodding. "A long time ago, back in the Capital Wasteland, I had a beautiful wife. Her name was Lucy, and she was everything I could ever dream of: compassionate, fierce, and sharp as a tack. She was also the mother of my baby boy, Duncan. We had a pretty nice family unit; it was just the three of us against the world." He chuckled dryly. "Until we made the mistake of holing up in an abandoned subway station on our way to the Commonwealth." He stopped and rubbed his temples as if to coax the memories out of a place he'd long hidden them. "Duncan started crying, and the damn ghouls crawled out of the woodwork like termites. They... They ripped her to shreds right in front of me. I barely had the strength to escape with Duncan in my arms."

Deacon grimaced. "I'm so sorry, bud. I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

"Yeah," MacCready intoned, his voice quiet. "But still, I should have done something. Sometimes, I just... I wonder what would have happened if I didn't run? If we'd just died there with her." MacCready picked up his hat. "That's why I've got two bullets up here," he murmured, tapping the brim. "If it ever comes down to it, I... I won't let them take us. I'll do it myself."

Deacon slowly shook his head, caught off guard by the sudden confession. "Robert, you did do something. You got you and your son out of there safely. I would do anything if it meant you never had to go through that, but I can't travel back in time. All I can do is promise you that you made the right decision and that I'm glad you're here."

"Heh. I, um." MacCready sniffled and tried to wipe the tears collecting in his eyes away. "Thanks, man. I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime. If you're ready, Nate is probably looking for us."

MacCready snorted, drying the last of his tears with his sleeve. "He's going to be pissed we aren't out there helping."

Chuckling, Deacon heaved himself up and offered a hand back to RJ. "I don't doubt it." When MacCready took his hand and stood up, Deacon started to pull away but stopped when MacCready's grip was still firm around his.

"You alright?" He asked, concerned.

"I... Yeah," the tips of MacCready's ear began to turn red as he continued, "I just wanted to thank you again. You didn't have to do that, but I'm glad you did."

Deacon grinned. "I'd do it again if it meant you'd keep holding my hand."

MacCready's full face then flushed a deep scarlet as noticed they were, in fact, holding hands.

Deacon laughed and tugged him towards the door. "C'mon man, don't want to keep Nate waiting."

"I, uh," MacCready stuttered, eyes wide, "Yeah."

Deacon laughed. "Well said! Have you tried public speech? You'd be a hit," he quipped, smirking as they walked out and headed towards Nate's turned back. Twisting his head, Nate caught sight of them and yelled.

"Hey! What the fuck, thanks for the help guys-" Nate stopped yelling to stare at their clasped hands. "Wha- fuck. I owe Piper $20 bucks."

Deacon just laughed as MacCready threw his free hand into the air in frustration. "God, you two are so fuc-fricking annoying. Can we get a move on? I want to get back to base before dark." MacCready glowered as Nate beamed and nodded cheerily.

"Sure thing princess." Nate hefted his pack onto his back and started down the long road home. "Let's haul ass!"

Deacon scoffed. "He's almost as eloquent as you. Hey, maybe you guys could be duel performers!"

"Shut the hell up," MacCready snapped, though his words held no real venom.

"Sure thing, princess" Deacon poked MacCready's side and jumped as he turned sharply. Deacon was sure he was about to get clocked straight in the head and was shocked when instead MacCready pulled him down by his collar and kissed him fiercely. After a few seconds they broke apart, both breathing hard.

"Now shut up, and there'll be more where that came from," MacCready growled.

Deacon blinked in surprise and nodded, following as MacCready started back down the trail. "Sir, yes sir."


End file.
